Obedience
by Galiko
Summary: Judal is always good for interruptions. This time, upon interrupting a tryst of Sinbad and Ja'far's, he decides to join in on the fun. Sinbad/Judal/Ja'far.


This _isn't_ how it's supposed to go.

Sinbad is a familiar thing, a warm, solid presence against his back, his mouth hot and his fingers an eager, earnest splay over his hips. _Sinbad_ he knows. Sinbad he _wants_, without even thinking about it, and that part of this is usual and _fine_.

What _isn't_ is Judal's sudden presence, an interruption that would normally leave him bolting, slinging blades and wires and hissing through his teeth, and oh, how Ja'far wishes Sinbad would simply _let him_.

"Ooh, so Freckles isn't so frigid after all."

Judal's voice is a simpering little purr as he crawls over the bed, and Ja'far knows he's tense, a coiled spring at best, but Sinbad's arm is tight about his waist, refusing to loosen, refusing to let him _move_.

"Don't worry," Judal breathes, and Ja'far worries. He worries quite a bit when that hot breath is against his throat, when Sinbad's fingers splay over his hips again and god, why is he so _complacent_ in this? "I'll be good if you will."

"Sin-" The protest is a little frantic, Ja'far knows, and Sinbad's mouth twists, just a little, before his lips ghost over the edge of his ear.

"It's fine, Ja'far."

It _isn't_. Not at _all_. Judal is grinning like a cat that's found the cream, and looks the part all the more as he rocks back, knees folded underneath himself. "You should always obey your king's orders, you know."

Ja'far's face _burns_.

Judal really is like a cat, one with sharp nails and sharper teeth, watching his prey. Ja'far _hates_ being the prey in question, never mind how Sinbad's hands make him shiver, how his mouth makes his breath catch in his chest, and no matter how tense he is, how _reluctant_, he ends up naked all the same, wrapped up in Sinbad's hold, shivering as he burrows back against his chest. His face is hot-flushed red, the heat of it spreading down his neck at this point, and Sinbad's cock is hard as it slides against the curve of his ass, slick from aloe and ah, god, it's so _close_ to being inside-

Ja'far is grateful, at least, that Judal seems merely content to _watch_. He hopes it stays that way, _desperately_ hopes for it when Sinbad's hands are on his waist again, when his mouth is sucking a bruise to the surface of his neck, and Ja'far chokes on a whine, a far too incriminating _mewl_ when his king's cock presses inside, the thick, dripping head of it stretching him wide and leaving him to gasp and squirm and _ache_. He trembles, his legs spreading wider over Sinbad's lap, though it does little to help-does little to make it less _tense_, even when Sinbad's hands slide over his chest, down his hips and thighs and-

It happens too fast for him to _think_. Judal is wriggling up between his spread thighs, leaning over his shoulder to press a hot, eager kiss to Sinbad's mouth, his breath fast and a little ragged. His cock is out and hard, and Ja'far shrinks back, no matter how Judal's hands are on his knees now, creeping up his thighs. "You look surprisingly good like that, Freckles," he breathes, and Ja'far thinks he might die, what with how hot his face is. "Maybe not _made_ for taking cock, but-"

Ja'far's mouth falls open in a ragged, squeaking breath when the head of Judal's cock nudges against his already stuffed-full hole, and he squirms, shivering, _definitely_ frantic now. "_Judal_," is Sinbad's low, breathless warning, and the Magi might as well have whined, sounding all too like a petulant child.

"But wouldn't he look good? Spread out around both of us-"

"You'll hurt him."

There's a knitting to Judal's brow that says that's _probably_ what he wants to do, but he relents all the same-at least, Ja'far _thinks_ he does until he's grabbing at his legs, shoving them closed as he slides up close. Judal's cock is slick, too, dripping from how hard he is as he shoves up between Ja'far's thighs, and that's at least a dozen times more obscene than _anything_, even with Sinbad's cock shoved up in him while he's being rocked atop it like he's little more than a toy.

"I-" Ja'far tries, thinking of a dozen protests, but there's none to be had when Sinbad shoves up into him, pitching him forward and giving him little choice but to reach out, scrabbling for leverage and balance and some sort of _grounding_. He finds it by fisting his fingers into Judal's hair, and the brat _hisses_, teeth snapping down into his shoulder as his hips grind forward, sliding his cock hard and insistent between Ja'far's thighs that his hands grab hard enough to bruise, squeezing them shut even tighter.

It's _disgusting_, how hard he is just from that.

Judal is just as hot, just as insistent and powerful with every sinuous movement as Sinbad is, with his teeth on one shoulder and Sinbad's mouth on the other. Ja'far feels himself surrender with a deep, quivering groan, yanked between them as Sinbad fucks up into his ass, as Judal's cock slides between the warmth of his thighs, making him a dozen times stickier, slicker, _messier_ than he would be if it were just _Sinbad_, and his cock throbs, heat twisting into the pit of his belly until he can't _think_.

Judal comes first, breath hot and heavy in his neck, his cock sliding through the mess that he spills over Ja'far's thighs and making him messier still with each lingering, eager rock of his hips. His scent is heavy in Ja'far's nose-exotic and spicy and cloying, and that, along with the pulse of Sinbad deep inside of him, slick and hot and _dripping_ only moments later, shoves him over the edge with a strangled noise in his throat.

"See? I was good."

Ja'far has to wonder about Judal's standards for _good_, but he'll take it for now, considering this time, he's ended up sated, not _dead_.


End file.
